Hypnosis
by Clunkety
Summary: Scene from "Everything Looks Better" that didn't make the final cut. Takes place the night before Sin destroys the Zanarkand Stadium. Some underage content.


I was on the edge of sleep when I heard the whine and thwack of the screen door as it slammed. Squinting around my old room, I felt four again. Four was the last time I had waited for Jecht to get home. After ten years, I didn't expect him home ever again. But when I heard the squeak of the liquor cupboard and the shuffle of bottles, I shot straight up in my bed.

"Daddy," I gasped.

Flinging back the blankets, I padded barefoot across the old carpet to the hall. Someone was rooting around the kitchen. Sliding drawers, jangling cooking utensils, the soft burst of a cork. I knew that sound. I had heard it enough times to know. My father always went straight for the liquor cabinet after Blitzball practice. Was it possible? Had he finally…_come home_?

I turned the corner to the kitchen. Carelessly draped over the high-back stool was the familiar red cloak that always made me giddy inside, more times than the sight of my father ever did. A padded grey gauntlet was lying on the table like a discarded prosthetic arm. The katana was there, too, sheathed in its carved leather scabbard and leaned up against the refrigerator. The size of it always fascinated me. It probably weighed as much as I did.

Auron's back was to me and he was pouring something clear into a tiny little glass. He set the bottle down. The back of his shoulders rose as he placed his hands on the counter and stared down at the shot. He seemed to be thinking long and hard about it. A few minutes later, he came to a verdict, picked it up and knocked it back. For a moment, he just stood there, holding the empty glass before deciding to fill it again.

"What are you doing here, Raine?" he asked as he poured.

My belly made a quick dive. How did he know I was standing there?

He threw back the drink and turned around, carrying the bottle and shot with him, his cheeks concave as he held the liquor in his mouth. I noticed right away his sunglasses were off and his collar was undone. He met my gaze with a glossy, amber eye and flinched as he swallowed. He put down the bottle and glass and dragged out one of the stools to sit at the peninsula counter.

"You woke me when you came in," I said.

Carefully, he poured another glass. "I mean, why are you spending the night at Tidus'?"

"You told me to spend more time with him."

He was lifting the glass to his lips, but stopped and pulled it away, frowning at me. "When did I say that?"

"My mother's funeral. Remember? By the parking lot?"

"Oh," he grumbled. He looked irritated as he quickly slugged his third shot and gulped with difficulty. I wondered if it tasted so bad why he continued to drink it.

I approached slowly. I never liked being around my father when he was drunk. He became aggressive and confrontational and his jokes got really bad. Auron didn't seem to have changed too much. But then, he'd only had three shots. Unless he'd gotten a head start somewhere else.

I had to slide the stool out with both hands before I climbed up gracelessly. My lavender nightgown was old and ill-fitting: the sleeves were too short for my gangly arms and I had to tug it down a little to cover my plump thighs. As I settled in the chair, I realized Auron's good eye was lingered on my chest and I folded my arms over them, blushing.

"You're getting too big for those pajamas," Auron commented. "Seems every time I see you you've had another growth spurt."

I didn't know what to say to that. Puberty was not being kind to me; I was what they called a "late bloomer." Everything was growing at different rates and my chest had been getting a lot of attention lately. Aunt Naya had taken me bra shopping, but I hated wearing them to bed. The first time I put one on by myself, it took me 35 minutes to do it. I kept putting it on backwards and it seemed every time I thought I got it, I'd realize the bow was on the inside and I'd have to start over. It took all my self-control not to go get the scissors and shred them.

Sneaking a look at the ruined side of his face, I averted my eyes to his hands instead and watched him play with the shot glass. The few drops of vodka left at the bottom coated the sides of the glass as he tilted it. The yellow paint was wearing off. The glass used to say "Zanarkand Abes" with the symbol that reminded me of an ampersand, but it was faded in the places where it was held the most and now it read: "Zana and Abe."

"Tidus is sleeping," I said. It was automatic for me to tell Auron where Tidus was. That's all Auron ever wanted to know from me. Where was Tidus? "I think it's weird he sleeps in my parents' old room." I sighed nostalgically. My mother hated the houseboat. After Jecht disappeared, she had moved Tidus and me to the rental in G-West. When she died, Tidus went back to the houseboat and I moved in with my great aunt and uncle. "The houseboat looks so old after all these years. And there's a funny smell, have you noticed? Like…mold."

Auron wasn't listening. "Don't wake him. He's got a big day tomorrow."

I nodded. "Memorial Cup."

He scowled at me. "Memorial what?"

"Memorial Cup. You know, honoring Jecht?" I was sure Tidus had told Auron about it.

"Oh. Right."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What else is happening tomorrow? Besides the game?"

"Nothing," Auron mumbled, filled the shot glass clumsily until it overflowed. "Shit." He curled forward, slurped the liquor off the top.

I had never seen Auron like this. Already his eye was bleary and red-rimmed and he was appearing more and more tired, looking around, hazy-like, without focusing on anything. But I had seen my dad get like this more times than a four year old should.

He sighed. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Don't you have school?"

"Summer. I can sleep late. The game's not until later tomorrow."

Auron started to lift the glass, but snapped his eye up on her. "You're going?"

I nodded uncertainly. Now what was his problem? "Tidus is taking me."

He slammed the glass down and it spilled a little. "No. You're not going."

Snorting, I said, "Yes I am. It's my father's memorial game."

"Nope. You can watch the game at home."

"At home, are you insane? Forget it. Everyone's going to be at the stadium."

Auron wasn't hearing it. "The stadium is the one place you shouldn't be tomorrow. I don't care if everyone in Zanarkand is going to be there, I only care about you."

This was news. I didn't think Auron even noticed when I was around. There was a time I would have done anything he said. I had always hoped to impress him with my obedience, my general "good kid" manners, but that never got his attention. Clearly, defying him was the only way to make him notice me. Sort of like my father.

"Look, you're not my father. I don't have to listen to you."

His eye hardened on me, boring a hole through my face. His fist was tightening, releasing. I could feel a wave of fury emanating off his soul. I sure didn't know how I did it, but I managed to stare back, my arms still folded to hide my chest. My nerve wouldn't last long. Auron always won at these things. He was very authoritative.

Then something happened that shocked me. _Auron_ broke first. His face crumpled, and all of his face looked ruined, not just the scarred side. "Please," he begged and his voice cracked. "Please don't go. Please. I can't—" He broke off with an unexpected sob. "I can't keep you both safe. I can't—I have to know—just…please…."

"Okay, okay, jeez," I said. My eyes were stinging. I had never seen a grown man cry before. Tidus didn't count; I'd been watching Tidus' tantrums since he was five years old. Seeing Auron melt down—now I had seen it all. I realized it was the vodka making him this way. Liquor made her father pugnacious. Apparently, it made Auron a drama queen.

With a shaky exhale, he picked up his drink and threw it back, grimacing. He wiped his face and tried to make it look like he was weary, but he was removing the evidence of his tears. Then he sniffed once, pushed on the counter to scoot his stool back. He slapped his knee.

"Come here."

I had sat on Auron's lap more times than either of us could count, but that was before. Before, when I was still cute and could get away with it. Before I was all hips, tits and zits. But this was the first time he'd ever invited me. Slipping down off my stool, I rounded the counter warily. Surely I was too big now. He had to see that. I knew I was too big to sleep with Mr. Moogle, but I still did. I was also too big for my pajamas, but I still wore them. And I was definitely too big for Auron's lap. But I still sat on it.

Looking down at his legs dangling over the stool, I could see his lap sloped in a way that would be impossible for me to keep traction, but then he propped his boots on the stool's poles to level out. I touched his kneecap, still trying to figure out how to hop up. The hem of my nightgown barely reached mid-thigh and I was feeling self-conscious about how it would move. Auron seized me under my arms and made an exaggerated groaning sound as he lifted me, for my amusement, as if he barely had enough strength. I was aware of his thumbs when he raised me. They touched the sides of my gargantuan-feeling breasts and it made me start to sweat profusely in my armpits and, strangely, between my legs.

"When did you get so tall?" he muttered.

I might have giggled, maybe if I'd been 7 or 8, instead of the 15 years I was.

He put me on his left knee, probably so he could detract attention from his unseeing right eye, and began situating me more comfortably. I knew my small nightgown would betray me and it did, hiking up my widening hips, flashing him with my white underwear. Thankfully, Auron didn't seem to notice as he hauled me against his armor. I didn't really know what to do with my head, so after a moment, I flattened my cheek on his shoulder and a second later, Auron affectionately rested his head on mine. I could feel his sharp whiskers digging into my temple, chaffing. At least his armor smelled good. Soothing, like honey. I realized he was rocking me, just a little, side to side, and I closed my eyes, remembering how my mom used to do this sometimes when I was little, for as long as I needed to feel safe.

"Love you kids," he croaked. "So much. Both mean more than my life."

More news I didn't know. But he wasn't so much saying it so I would know. It was like he was saying it to himself as he understood it for the first time.

His arms flexed, squeezing me, pinning my arms to my sides. I realized his face had drifted down to the crook of my neck and he was shaking, weeping. The hug quickly turned fierce and it hindered my breathing, crushing me. I froze, letting him, even though my tender chest was smashed brutally against his unyielding armor. His rocking turned fast and erratic. Not in the pacifying side to side way, but the slightly more maniacal forward and back way. Soon, my vision blurred with my own tears because I was scared. Not of him. At least, not totally. Whatever it was that was making him this way—two stops short of crazy—that's what I feared.

And what the H-E-double-great-scythes was happening at the game tomorrow?

He took a rough breath to talk, but it was muffled on my neck and the choked words tumbled out of his mouth. "…more than dreams…don't know what's going to happen…Zanarkand…fayth stop dreaming...oh sweet Yevon…sweet Yevon…I wish I could take you both!"

That last part came out clear and forceful and although I didn't know what it meant, what any of it meant, I wriggled to free my arms and squeezed his neck. I knew being a grown up wasn't easy and until now, my mother was the only one to ever have a complete breakdown in front of me, when Jecht disappeared. But my mother hadn't been that stable to begin with. Auron was a boulder. To see him rolling out of control terrified me.

He pushed me back to look at me, but the streaks running down the left side of his face made me panic and I began sobbing dry heaves. "Don't cry," he growled. "You're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine. Right?" His face hardened and he shook me to prompt a response. "Right?"

Chin trembling, I nodded. I was so confused. His babbling went way over my head. Five minutes ago I didn't think anything was wrong, now Auron was trying to convince me I was going to be fine.

"Come here," he said, as if I had a choice, simultaneously jerking me, and it felt like my ribs were bowing on the chest of his armor. He kissed me out loud: neck, cheek, mouth, forehead. "Muah, muah, muah, mmmm-uah!" I was only distantly cognitive of the wet, forehead smooch as I marveled over the kiss on my mouth. Auron's lips felt like my father's, innocent, avuncular, and tasting of liquor as his beard cut my face. It stunned me. And it made me stop crying immediately. Auron wiped my tears with scratchy thumbs. "That's better. Good girl."

He helped me down off his lap and told me to go to bed. Straightening my nightgown, I ambled on wobbly knees around the counter, heading for my old bedroom.

Auron cleared his throat. "When you get up tomorrow, I'll take you back to C–South."

"'kay," I mumbled, numb, dazed. I glanced at him before entering the hall. He had poured another drink. He slugged it, poured again. Stopping outside my door, I licked my lips. I could still taste the vodka, warm and tingling on my lips, and I could still imagine Auron's beard rubbing on my chin. I wished he'd meant it. I so wanted that to count as my first kiss.

Crawling back into bed, I lied awake, staring at the ceiling. I could still hear Auron in the next room, the bottle clinking against the glass every time he refilled. A lonely sound.

He was having a grown up problem that I couldn't begin to understand. In fact if I tried to help, I would likely only make another problem for him to deal with. If Aunt Naya or Uncle Cetan were having adult complications, I only knew how to help by doing the dishes or cleaning my room and it seemed to work. At least that's what Aunt Naya said: "Oh, Raine, you're such a big help!" Maybe it helped, maybe it didn't. All I really knew was that it didn't hurt.

There was nothing I could do for Auron and I was okay with that. No use worrying about what I couldn't fix. Chances are, from the way he ranted, the problem was too much for me to even comprehend. Except that it involved Tidus and me. Auron was a brooder and if his problem was too big to solve without opening a bottle, then what chance did I have of helping?

Reaching up to the head of the bed, I felt around for my stuffed moogle and hardly gave it a second look as I lifted the covers and pinioned it between my thighs. By mere accident, I had figured out by strangling my stuffed toy like this, the hard plastic nub of Mr. Moogle's black nose rubbed against a place between my legs that made my chest pound and my breathing fast. To get things going, I replayed Auron's kiss in my mind and for a few minutes I felt very close to something, but then it just went away. Although my heart was still drumming, I gave up and tossed the used moogle to the floor. It was usually hard to look into its button eyes after that. Like I had taken its innocence.

I hadn't heard the bottle and glass pinking together in a long time and wondered if Auron had fallen asleep on the couch. I hoped so. Apparently, tomorrow was a big day. Too bad I promised Auron I'd watch it happen from home.

But Auron wasn't sleeping. He was coming down the hall. I could hear the metal drag of his armor buckles on the wall. Probably trying to catch his balance. Sometimes, my father could scarcely walk a straight line in the narrow houseboat hallways. I rolled into the fetus position, facing the wall to avoid a scolding about still being awake. I knew Auron was in my room when the floor boards squeaked under the carpeting. There was the distinct sound of liquid sloshing in a container and I realized why I hadn't heard the bottle hitting the glass in so long. He was drinking straight from the bottle now.

I heard him set the bottle on my nightstand and on the wall in front of me, his shadow lumbered over me unsteadily. Yanking on the covers, Auron smoothed them around my shoulders. A moment later, Mr. Moogle reappeared next to me as Auron posed him within my reach. It was all a little juvenile, but it made me feel precious.

A couple minutes later, I felt the bed sink as Auron sat behind me. He sniffed. He drank. He sniffed some more.

I continued to feign sleeping, even while the bed jostled as he lied down. I could tell he was on his back and I tried to muster up enough courage to roll over and lie against him, comfort him. It might not help, but it wouldn't hurt, either. But my heart was battering the inside of my rib cage and I was sure Auron could hear it. Eventually, Auron turned on his side, carefully scooped me up in his arms and I could tell he was trying not to wake me. I was a light sleeper, though. If I'd really been sleeping, I would have heard him the moment he came into my room.

He cradled my neck in his armpit, his elbow loose around my throat, and my shoulder blades dug into his armor as he spooned me. The side of his face rested against my ear and his sniffles became very loud.

"S'not fair," he whispered. "You're so young. You've your whole life ahead of you."

Tell me something I didn't know. That was every adult's favorite thing to say to me, right after denying me something I really wanted.

"But the cycle…it must stop…."

Cycle? What cycle? Not my womanly cycle, I hope. Jeez. That would be embarrassing.

"We'll succeed this time. Have to. And when we do…." His voice started to shake and crack again. "When we do…Zanarkand…will…."

Will what? Holy cats! Zanarkand will what?

"…and…you…will….."

But Auron couldn't finish. He pressed his mouth into the corner of my neck to smother his rumbling sobs and never finished his sentence. His arm was pinching my throat and I shifted uncomfortably, which was just enough to let him know I was at least half awake.

"M'sorry, Raine. Go back to sleep. Shhhh. Go back to sleep."

I relaxed against him, but sleep would be impossible, that much was clear. Adrenaline was zipping through my veins and everything was prickling. I became alert of Auron's other hand as it found my stomach, rubbing consolingly, his callouses snagging on the cotton of my nightgown as he attempted to lull me back to sleep. The touch was elating. And it seemed the vodka was blurring the lines he might not otherwise cross. Every lazy pass of his palm seemed to travel further up and down my midsection, until the tips of his fingers were bumping the undersides of my breasts and then overlapping the elastic band of my underwear.

"Wish I could see you grow up," he murmured in my ear. "Watch you graduate high school. Be there at your wedding. Meet your children. It hurts me, Raine. Hurts me to think you'll be this age forever. Thinking all night how I can make it different. But I don't think it can be."

I was barely registering what he was saying. Every time his hand swept across my body, my heart would stop, hoping he might cup my breast or curl his fingers between my legs. I found myself pliantly anticipating it. The stabs of disappointment when he didn't anguished me, to the point I thought I might cry.

"Forgive me, Raine. Forgive me for not finding a way."

"I forgive you," I whispered, without really knowing what I was forgiving. Or caring.

I found his hand, slipped it under my nightgown and led him to my breasts. When he realized where I meant for him to touch, he wrenched his hand away, but I snatched it back. I was reminded of an old saying about leading a chocobo to water, but how you couldn't make it drink, and at first Auron's fingers were reluctant and unresponsive against my new curves. It almost made me want to cry again and I wondered self-deprecatingly how drunk did a man have to be to touch me. But he was reacting before long, shaky caresses over the sound of our ragged breathing. His fingers felt rough and scratchy on my skin and when his thumb grazed tentatively over my nipple, I shivered and opened my mouth in a soundless moan. I felt the strokes all the way down to my crotch, which was thudding to the same wild rhythm of my heart.

When I could barely stand the ache in my loins, I guided his hand back down and it seemed Auron already knew where I was taking him.

"Raine," he whispered. It was almost a protest, but it was almost nudging, too, as if he were trying to see if I was awake. Let him think I was talking and moving in my sleep. In fact, part of me did think I was dreaming. Maybe I had fallen asleep with Mr. Moogle between my thighs and now I was having one of those rare sex dreams that made me feel lots of things for the first time.

Sliding his hand under the elastic of my underwear, I trusted he knew more than I did what to do. Until now, it had never occurred to me to use my own fingers to do what Mr. Moogle couldn't.

What a novel idea, I thought distractedly as Auron played with the thin wisps of hair down there. I had been around 13 when I first noticed the dark blonde hairs growing between my legs, but seemed with every one I ripped out, five more sprouted in its place. I had to give up the losing battle. Apparently, the hairs didn't disgust Auron as much as they did me and a moment later I felt his fingers gently prying at the apex of my thighs. His hand felt good down there already, but I could tell he was trying to do something more. I opened my legs to give him room.

Oh yes. This was much better.

His fingers knew right where to go, stroking places I had never felt, finding holes I didn't know I had. Startled, I made a loud sound, something between a cry and a groan. Auron tensed behind me and adjusted his arm so my mouth was gagged by the crook of his elbow. His lips were by my ear. "Shhhh," he hushed, soft and soothing, the way my mother would after one of my nightmares. "Shhhhhh."

Right. I couldn't wake Tidus. To think what would happen if Tidus walked in...oh, jeez…I already had trouble looking Mr. Moogle in the eye. It felt too good to stop right now and it was already more satisfying than anything my stuffed toy had done. I was clutching Auron's forearm desperately, feeling his arm hair tickle my nose, as if I had waded out to deeper waters and then realized I didn't know how to swim.

"Shhhh," Auron cooed, between strong, fatherly kisses on my neck. I was only vaguely aware of something jabbing into the small of my back, stabbing to a rhythm not my own. But I could hardly pay attention to it as the heat and throb between my legs made my hips thrust uncontrollably. It was sort of humiliating. Especially when Auron started fighting me, pushing my pelvis back against him until I felt that thing again, behind me, assaulting me. It all became a struggle. An exciting, thrilling, stimulating struggle. I could tell I was chasing something, but I couldn't keep up. Rigid bodies grinding to a frantic tempo. Bedsprings creaking. Auron's grunts, muffled in my neck. The covers, humid with sweat. Smell of liquor and faint body odor. Something coming. Something significant. And then it was here, electrifying me in a silent explosion. Auron felt it too, it seemed, his body stiffening behind me.

As soon as it began to fade, my hips gyrated, searching for more, maddened by its elusiveness. Somehow, Auron knew it had ended for me and his fingers stirred languidly between my thighs. I lowered his arm to catch my breath. Eventually, his hand withdrew and draped over my hipbone. Whatever was behind me, tapping for my attention, it had gone away.

Now, I could sleep. And as Auron's breathing grew heavy, so did his body weight. He was smushing me, but I was so close to sleep I didn't bother rousing him. As my eye lids fluttered, I noticed Mr. Moogle sitting at attention beside me, and I could barely stand to look at his sad, black button stare. Sad because I didn't need him anymore. I reached over and knocked the stuffed moogle face down.

I woke when Auron woke. His sudden jolt and quick inhale startled me. It was morning and our positions hadn't moved an inch. My underwear was damp and ice cold against my skin. I closed my eyes again to pretend I was still sleeping. It was my go-to counter measure now, to deal with what I didn't know how to deal.

"Fuck am I doing here?" Auron muttered grittily.

He moved off of me and I heard his boots hit the carpet.

"Shhhhhit," he hissed. Figuring Auron couldn't remember a thing about last night, I wondered if he'd just found his empty bottle sitting on my nightstand. A moment later, I felt a cool breeze on my legs as Auron lifted the covers. It wasn't until later I realized he had been checking to see if my clothes were still on. "Thank Yevon," he mumbled and the bed resumed shape as he got up.

I snuck a look over my shoulder as he headed for the door, empty bottle in hand, scratching his balls as he left.

I rolled over to Auron's side. The mattress was still warm where he'd been laying, moist from his sweat. The pillow we had shared still smelled of his male musk and the alcohol that had leaked from his pores. His warmth and smell would fade, I knew, and already last night was beginning to lose its sharp edges, feeling more like a dream and less like something that happened. Every time I grasped for another intense detail, it shifted and felt less real.

I heard Tidus leave for the stadium around 10:00. Auron must have told him I wasn't going. Shortly after that, I got up to shower. When I was done, I found Auron sitting on the front deck in a beat-up patio chair.

The sun reflected off his sunglasses as he looked at me. "Ready?" he asked from behind his high collar, neatly buckled.

I nodded and he got up, but I couldn't help looking out at the bay as I approached.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

A finger from his gauntlet lifted my chin. His face was down to peer at me over his sunglasses and it was then I knew for sure Auron didn't remember last night. If he had, he wouldn't be looking me in the eye right now, the way I was having trouble looking him in the eye. He might as well have a black button sewed in place of his missing right eye. I decided right then I would never tell him what happened. Knowing I had used him wouldn't help. It would definitely only hurt.

"Can we get going please? Jeez. You're going to be late and I'd like to make it home in time for the blitzoff."

With a keen look, he nodded, stepped back to let me lead the way.

* * *

Surfacing from her hypnosis, Raine was surprised she didn't feel more tired as she looked across the office to her therapist, who was looking very tidy in her suit and tight up-do. But Raine could tell the woman was trying to keep professional under the circumstances. She appeared flushed from Raine's story.

"How do you feel?" the therapist asked.

"Honestly, I thought that had been a dream. I mean, I was always having them." She scoffed, absently rubbing the bandages on her wrist. The wound was starting to heal and the stitches were always itching. "Especially during puberty."

"Every time the mind recalls something, the memory changes a little." The therapist wiggled her pen between her fingers as she held up her chin in professional interest. "How do you feel now that you know it's real?"

"I don't know. It doesn't change anything. He's still gone." The emptiness was still there, but it was less vast knowing how tormented Auron was by his decision to take Tidus to Spira and leave Raine in Zanarkand. "I think I was feeling guilty for using him when he was most vulnerable. Somehow, it seemed pointless to remember it if he didn't remember."

"Raine, it's typical for people in these situations to blame themselves, especially when it's a friend of the family."

Blinking, it dawned on Raine what her therapist was saying. She laughed, loud and hard and realized she's actually _guffawed_. But a flash of disapproval in her therapist's face made her button up quick. She had been so objective up until now and Raine suspected it was an expression she wasn't supposed to see. Raine needed her therapist to approve of her wellness if they were going to let her leave the hospital. At fifty gil an hour, starting at the beginning with Auron would cost her a small fortune.

Raine threw up her hands. "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you're doing it. You're healing. Getting better, emotionally. But if he comes back it will make you regress. You'll have to take charge. You'll have to tell him he has to go. Do you think you can do that?"

Raine sighed and nodded. She was scratching her bandages again. It didn't help. But at least it didn't hurt, either.


End file.
